


The Bane of Rupert Giles' Existence

by EternalRedWolfe



Series: Inspired by HUSH:  A BUFFY PODCAST [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 16:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalRedWolfe/pseuds/EternalRedWolfe
Summary: Giles come face to face with his nemesis.On an (almost) daily basis.





	The Bane of Rupert Giles' Existence

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a point picked up on HUSH: A BUFFY PODCAST: Where does the computer keep popping up from? 
> 
> Poor poor Giles.

"I'll be back after school to look it up on the net." Willow did a little shoulder dance at the prospect of research as she and the others filed out of the library for class. Giles shuddered with disdain at the words he wanted to ban from his haven. Demon intruders he could put up with, he'd welcome them even, if he could just ban computers from his library. Out of all the americanisms, all the Californian lingo he had to wrestle with from Buffy and the students, his most hated phrase was 'I'll look it up on the net.'

And not just because of the intrusion it brought to his beautiful books.

He walked over to the book cage and leaned against the frame battle with the desire to grab the mace swing it into the monitor screen and tower that were placed in a sagging box in the corner. He took off his glasses and wiped the lenses on his handkerchief and considered the pros and cons. 

There was one real con but it was enough to tip the balance: he would not me able to endure Willow's sorrowful face when she saw what had happened. And he wouldn't be able to lie to her. 

Slipping his glasses back on he went over to the box, securing the top flap, bent down, and heaved the monstrosity off the floor. He could carry boxes and boxes of books at a time, but Giles' always struggled under the weight of this thing. He prided himself on the neatness of his movements but now he moved as gracelessly as possible, trying to keep his knees from buckling and his fingers from losing their grip on the ever slipping box. 

He finally placed it on the study desks but he felt no relief. 

The hard part was only beginning. 

He organised the monitor, the keyboard, the mouse and the tower at the top of the desk, and placed to the side was each and every wire that was needed for this thing to operate, tangled in an impressive ball, shocking considering he had packed them away neatly only yesterday. 

He split the following operation into multiple tasks:  
• Untangle the wires  
• Plug them in, one by one, into the corresponding port  
• Disconnect the lead from the phone to the computer, rendering the phone useless  
• Find an extension lead and plug everything on.  
• Switch on the monitor and the tower.  
• Enjoy a soothing cup of tea.

He prided himself when he mentally ticked off each task, with minimal swearing, and beamed with pride when he remembered that he had had the foresight to pack the extension lead into the box with the other equipment. He was so chuffed with himself, he decided to have that cup of tea now. 

He finally sat in front of his nemisis, cup of tea to his right. He switched on the power buttons. But the machine refused to operate. His happiness crumbled around him. He checked the wires, making sure that the large on was secure at the back of the tower, then unpluging each wire, making sure they matched up with the port and securing them tightly. The he checked the plugs: all sitting snuggly in their sockets. He returned to the desk and tried the machine again. Nothing. He raised his hand ready to hit the machine, but Willow's face flashed into his mind and he stopped himself. 

He turned and walked into his office and slammed his fist hard into the filing cabinet. The pain seared through his hand as his knuckles turned a raw red. He closed his eyes and bit his lip as the pain pounded in his hand. And when he opened his eyes, the problem was staring at him. He poked his head out the door, ensuring no one had seen his outburst then moved to the socket in his office and flicked the switch.

When he hit the power buttons again, the machines fired up, the tall tower making a monstrous whirring sound. He rubbed at his raw knuckles and took a sip of his tea as it slowly powered up.

A sparse 'desktop' appeared in on the screen and he moved the mouse to the icon of the phone connected to the computer and double clicked. He checked the details on the little menu that came up and clicked connect. He closed his eyes, ready to bask in the silence of the library for a few minutes before the final bell rang. The sound pierced through his reprieve.

 

Dong Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep beepskskkkkkeeeeeeraeeeeeeeeeee eera eera eera skpspkephhhhssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhsshssssssssshhhh shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhskraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa eshhhhhkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for my attempt at translating Dial Tone. : |


End file.
